I think a lot of the reason I don't blog frequently
is because I'm a mostly negative person.
I don't see the silver lining in situations,
I see a rain cloud,
and expect the worst.
So when I try to put my fingers to my keyboard,
I worry about bringing people down.
And that's not what I want.
I don't want to bring anyone down;
I want to make others feel inspired, and happy, and smile,
and feel sunshine-y warm when they read what I've written,
and connect with me on a deeper level,
so I stand back, away from my blog,
and try to think of what I have to offer
if I can't offer an upbeat post about
how happy I am with my life.
But today it hit me that my blog doesn't have to be sunshine,
and rainbows all the time. It can also be rain clouds.
All it has to be honest.
That's all I personally require of it.
So today (and from now on)
I just want to write and be honest.
I hope that's okay.
So here goes;
I'm still baffled every. single. day.
by the fact that we're still trying for a baby,
after more than two years.
I've known that I wanted a bunch of kids,
a giant family,
since I was fourteen.
After spending a whole summer watching Little House on the Prairie
and dreaming about what my family would look like,
and where I would raise my children,
and who I'd raise my children with.
Being a mother is my biggest dream; my strongest instinct.
And yet, it's become an inconceivable (get it?) task,
this impossible feat,
this crying at work and home and everywhere,
trying, trying, trying thing.
To the point of exhaustion,
to wanting to give up forever,
because it's so disappointing
every month to hear the universe
(and a home pregnant test) screaming
a big fat NO.
But then I imagine my husband as a dad,
and it hits me that this month could be it,
the month we stop trying,
the beginning of a great adventure,
"the world is ours for the taking!" optimism,
and an unending pair of smiles,
or it could just be another month
that we spent trying and ultimately, failing.